


like soldiers in the winter's night

by voodoochild



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Biting, Coming In Pants, Dirty Talk, Frottage, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, the glamorous life of indy wrestlers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-18 21:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16524680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoochild/pseuds/voodoochild
Summary: It's Buffalo during a blizzard, minus 10 degrees out, and the heater's stopped working. Kevin is not freaking out at sharing a bed with Sami - that was always the plan - but he is freaking out when it turns into something more.





	like soldiers in the winter's night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SanSese](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanSese/gifts).



> For Sansese's prompt: "Sharing a blanket to keep warm, but now I’m burning up due to how close you are." Takes place approximately in January 2007, making them 22ish. 
> 
> Title from Bruce Springsteen's "No Surrender".

It's a cliche to say everything had started out innocently, but it had.

This is so far from the first time they've ever shared a bed, or the first time they'd fought off the cold by doing so. They could have done the thing where one of them sleeps on the floor on spare gym mats, but even if it hadn't been minus 10 out with a shitty heater, they wouldn't have risked it. It's Buffalo, they're five miles away from the venue because neither of them had wanted to risk getting stranded and not making the booking, but this place makes even some of the no-tell motels they've lived out of look luxurious. Double bed, questionable linen they'd stripped off to dump in the corner of the room, mattress sprayed down with the Lysol they've started carrying. 

It hadn't been bad when they'd fallen asleep after the show. Then the heater had stopped working around 3 am, and Kevin wakes up with his muscles cramping from cold and Sami's shivering breath in his ear. Swearing, he pulls on sweatpants and an extra pair of socks, then stuffs a bunch of old merch shirts and the spare towels against the window to keep it from rattling and letting in the cold. He gets back in the bed with his teeth chattering.

Clearly, Kevin should be the human furnace - he's got about a hundred pounds on Sami - but it's never been that way. Kevin gets cold, needs to bury himself under three blankets in the winter, turns the heat up as high as it can go. Sami usually passes out in a tee-shirt and boxers and puts off enough body heat to count as a second heater, but tonight he's decided to do his best octopus impersonation, curling tightly against Kevin. 

"Sami, c'mon. Put on some pants if you're cold."

Sami makes an annoyed sound. "S'warm under here. Shhh and let me sleep."

He burrows further under the blanket (heavy, scratchy wool, but decent enough) and his cold nose pressed to Kevin's neck makes him yelp. "Oh my god, how is your face so cold?"

Sami grumbles something in Arabic and winds his arms around Kevin. It's . . . not bad. The rest of Sami is nice and warm, narrow hips and the soft cotton of his tee-shirt, and even his cold nose is warming against Kevin's skin. The slight weight of him is familiar, and Kevin drifts off on a haze of half-memory.

He wakes in a sweat, limbs tangled with Sami's and a sheen of sweat covering them both. The flickering clock on the bedside table says 4:18 am, and Kevin groans, trying to shift Sami and the blanket a little so he can breathe. This is a terrible idea, because the air that rushes in is freezing, even colder than it had been an hour ago, and Kevin bites his tongue before he can yell loudly enough to wake Sami. His body feels slick and wrung-out, muscles protesting from the beating they'd taken in the ring and then the cold of the room. Sami lies heavy against him, his head on Kevin's upper arm, his right leg tucked between Kevin's thigh and the bed and his left knee bent across Kevin's calf.

The fact that they're both hard shouldn't be something that bothers Kevin, but it does. The ring is the ring, and hard-ons happen. Accidental boners while sharing a bed happen. They ignore it when they happen, because that's what you do for your best friend.

He can't ignore it this time, not with Sami's breath puffing warm against his ear, his little sleep wheezes too-loud in the frigid room. Kevin stretches a little, just to relieve the throbbing in his dick (and not to grind against Sami's thigh, absolutely not), his hand coming up to cradle the back of Sami's neck. And nine times out of ten, Sami would still be asleep, because Sami sleeps like the fucking dead. 

This time, Sami groans thick and low in his throat, his body arching against Kevin's and his eyes flickering open. He looks startled and incredibly turned-on, and Kevin freezes, about to apologize.

"Oh fuck," Sami breathes, his hips twitching against Kevin's thigh and proving Sami's just as hard as Kevin. His boxers are thin cotton, and the waistband's slipping down his belly from the sweat they've worked up. "Kev?" he asks, fingers curling into the back of Kevin's shirt.

He should stop. He should stop moving right now, pull away no matter how cold it is, go to the bathroom and jerk off like a normal person. He should absolutely not be letting his hips move or his hand stroke up into Sami's hair. He should not be pressing into the rub of Sami's hand against his back or staring at his best friend's mouth, practically yearning to kiss him. He shouldn't, but he wants so fucking badly to keep doing it, and Sami jerks sharply as Kevin's hand tugs involuntarily at his hair.

"Fuck, fuck, Kev you have to - _ya ibn el sharmouta_ \- if you stop or freak out, I'll kill you, please, please-"

Sami's head drops to press his forehead to Kevin's, his wet mouth so close, it's barely a breath to shift forward and press his mouth to Sami's, and the sound Sami makes is loud and beautiful. Everything fucking lights up in him, the slide of Sami against him, the groans he's catching in his mouth, licking at the seam of Sami's lips, the hard ridge of Sami pressed to his hip. He feels feverish, lightheaded, desperate to feel as much of Sami as he can, and he breaks apart to exhale sharp at the hollow of Sami's collarbone.

"Can I-?" he starts to ask, but Sami's hands are already working his sweatpants down.

"Yes, yes, all of it, anything you want," Sami murmurs.

It's everything Kevin imagined, when he let himself think about sex and his best friend in the same thought. Sami's a hurricane of hands and body and teeth and mouth and arms, overwhelming in all the best ways and so perfectly himself. It's only a problem in that it's too good, Sami's mouth on his and Sami's hands gripping and stroking and rubbing. They've gotten most of the clothes out of the way, but they're still on, and everything's heated and slick and feels fucking amazing.

"Stopstopstop," he groans, and Sami freezes. Kevin kisses Sami's forehead, tastes sweat and shampoo, rests his head against Sami's. "You're so much, it's gonna be over in three seconds if you keep doing all of that."

Sami's eyes are so bright, and he huffs out a laugh against Kevin's temple. Mouths light and thoughtful there. "I'm really okay with that. You can - oh, *oh* - you can prove your stamina later."

Kevin strokes down Sami's bicep, tugs at his left nipple again to hear him make that surprised sound. "Okay. God, you're hot."

"It's the wool blend of the blanket, it's supposed to trap heat-"

"Not what I meant, genius. C'mere."

He pulls Sami on top of him, the blanket tented over them. Everything narrows, becomes dark and slick and wet; Sami's mouth licking filthy into his, Kevin's hands on Sami's ass, their dicks sliding against each other, scent of sweat and pre-cum and cheap hotel soap. Sami's so loud, it's a good thing there's no one around for miles - he swears in at least three languages and moans and begs - and Kevin can't hold anything back either. It just spills out, an unbroken line of everything he's ever wanted.

"Sami, fuck, you're so good, I fucking love your legs and your thighs, god, I want to fuck you between them, fold you up and hold you down, *ah* _crisse_ , your mouth you gorgeous little shit, should be illegal, want to - mmmm - kiss you, wanted to kiss you forever, right from that dumb squawk you made during that first match, thought about sucking you off every time you wear those blue trunks, you're always just a little bit hard and I can't stop thinking about it-"

Sami's grinding and moaning and talking back, pulling Kevin's hair.

"It's for you, of course it's for you, you shove me around and you pull me by the mask and you're in that singlet that shows everything, I just want to touch you all the time and shove back, get you against a wall with those shoulders and that ass, Kevin, oh my god, I have literally never had a match with you without wanting to just hold you down and grind against your ass, oh my god, do that again, please do that again and do not fucking stop-"

Short, hard thrusts, Kevin's hand wrapped around them both, and Sami bites his shoulder when he comes. Kevin's breathing in the thick scent of them and the pain just pushes him over the edge, which is going to be something to examine when he doesn't have his gorgeous, exhausted best friend draped over him. 

"How much do we wanna hate ourselves in the morning?" Sami groans.

"I'm not getting out of this bed, so a lot," Kevin says. 

"We're gonna be sticky."

"Yeah, but at least we're warm?"

Sami snickers, sliding off Kevin to rest on his side but keeping a leg and arm thrown across him. "Never been so happy to have a broken heater. Mmmmnight."

Just like that, Sami's breathing evens out again, and Kevin's left drowsily kicking his sweats and Sami's boxers off. 

Huh. They fucked around and the world has not ended. If the promoter actually pays them this time, they'll have enough for some decent post-show food and gas, with extra left over. They're booked for a show in Syracuse on the way home, mid-card money and better merch placement.

Not too bad for a weekend in Buffalo.

**Author's Note:**

> ya ibn el sharmouta - son of a bitch  
> crisse - Christ


End file.
